


Her Majesty's Secret Service

by tibididim



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, Dubious Consent, Historical Inaccuracy, Kink Meme, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-01
Updated: 2010-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:31:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tibididim/pseuds/tibididim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft secretly writes gay erotica under a pseudonym. Sort of inspired by the fact that Mark Gatiss in real life did the same thing. Written for an anon meme prompt. Like you couldn't guess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Majesty's Secret Service

**Author's Note:**

> For the sherlockbbc_fic prompt: _Mycroft secretly writes gay erotica under a pseudonym. Is it something he did back at uni, or a way to pass the time in his lunch break, or just because he CAN? Where and when is it set? Ancient Rome, futuristic Australia, the English Civil War? Does he have a cult following? If so, who's in it? Do they know it's Mycroft?_

Mycroft sucked the end of his pen thoughtfully. It really was too soon narratively for Ethelbert to penetrate his valet with the handle of his dead father’s horsewhip, wasn’t it? And he’d really meant to include a brief side-scene involving some frottage in the stables between the lusty stableboy and the Earl’s cousin.

“And so the intention is -” the head of the Afghanistan department was saying, but goodness, this meeting was going on far too long, so Mycroft cut him off.

“Yes, yes, you want to interrupt the flow of electrical parts into Helmand to make IEDs more difficult to make, very good, but do bear in mind that the I part of IED stands for improvised. Do find some kind of follow-through for this plan and get back to me on it?” _Damn_ , Mycroft remembered, _No one’s been tied up yet_. He made a note to himself.

“Yes, of course.” The poor fellow departed, and Mycroft turned back to the stirrings in Ethelbert’s loins, which were strangely stirring all the more now he had discovered his valet was in fact a Roundhead agent.

The security system at headquarters was very good. Alas, it was so good that one could not simply keep a surreptitious file on one’s computer and copy it onto a modest USB drive whenever one needed to. For one thing, there were no USB sockets. An extraordinarily simple idea. And of course one had to clear one’s office of all papers at the end of each day, either locking them away or taking them home. Someone of less ingenuity and sangfroid might find their erotic writing career hindered by this, but Mycroft had found it only made the whole business more thrilling. No one ever dared even to try to read his handwriting in meetings - except of course that foolish friend of Sherlock’s. The fact that the dozen or so of his novels that had been published - pseudonymously, of course - had amassed a small but keen following certainly didn’t impinge on his inclinations.

“Sir, the Chancellor is here for your 9.45.”

 _Grasped his manhood at the root and plunged it deep into Stephen’s yearning orifice, as the younger man moaned about him in mingled pleasure and pain wrote Mycroft, “Oh, you dastardly Cavalier!”, cried Stephen, “- to think I should allow you such a liberty!”_

 _“I shall give you up to Prince Rupert if you are not quiet,” declared the taller man, removing one leather glove and thrusting it into Stephen’s mouth, “Now try to protest, your precious Earl will not save you!”_

 _“Oh! oh!” was all the poor young man could say._

“Mmm, thank you. Do show him in,” Mycroft replied, and thought absently that he ought to write one set in Ancient Rome. There really were some startling possibilities there.


End file.
